By Michael Marley

You’ve heard of club fighters, right? In the good old days that used to be a compliment for a fighter.

It denoted a complete, disciplined boxer who has truly learned his trade. He might not have the God-given talent of a Sugar Ray Robinson (who did?), but he could handle himself between the ropes with nearly all styles, all comers. A club fighter was rarely embarrassed in terms of professional effort.

I once referred to Vinnie Pazienza as a glorified club fighter and his excitable father, Angelo, literally tried to strangle me. But that’s not a tale for the Day of Saint Patrick, the icon who drove the snakes out of Ireland but not out of boxing. read more



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